


a road leading home to you

by emlof



Category: Naruto
Genre: Developing Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Burn, kakashi is maybe a little emotionally constipated but it's fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-03 09:23:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16323560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emlof/pseuds/emlof
Summary: There are benches near the gates of Konoha where people wait for their loved ones to return from missions. Kakashi is used to ignoring them; it’s been a long time since someone has taken anything more than a professional interest in his comings and goings.





	1. one

They’re about an hour from the village when Naruto suddenly abandons all pretense of composure and takes off in a dead sprint.

“I can’t just _walk_ anymore,” he hollers over his shoulder, trusting that Kakashi and Sakura will follow his breakneck pace. “We’re so close! I want to get back!”

Sakura sniffs and makes eye contact with Kakashi, rolling her eyes as if to say _can you believe him?_ – but she picks up the pace as well, close on Naruto’s heels, and Kakashi knows she relishes the chance to feel the wind through her hair as they run closer to home. She’s looking forward to being back in the village almost as much as Naruto.

Kakashi doesn’t share their excitement – all he feels is a faint relief at the idea of collapsing in a real bed. It hadn’t been an especially difficult mission. Everyone had remained mostly unscathed, and Sakura had been able to tend to the worst of their cuts and scrapes before they turned back towards Konoha. 

And yet – something in him is worn out. His back had downright _ached_ this morning after another night spent sleeping on the cold, hard ground. He could swear his joints were audibly creaking as they had packed up camp, although Naruto and Sakura had made no mention of it and the kinks had mostly worked out of his knees by the time they set off on their return journey. 

Kakashi knows he isn’t _old_ by any stretch of the word – but these days it certainly feels that way. It’s only to be expected that years of abusing his body on A- and S-ranked missions would take their toll, he supposes, and he’s certainly outlasted his own expectations for his lifespan. But old injuries have been making themselves known more than usual, lately. His scars ache in the morning, and even rubbing them with the hospital-grade cream he’d pinched on his latest stay doesn’t sooth them. He takes longer stretching, now. Obito’s eye throbs when a storm is coming, and after every mission there’s a knot in his shoulders that he can never seem to work out. He’s _tired._

This newfound weariness won’t stop him from running missions for the village, not when he’s still needed, not when he doesn’t know what else to do with himself. But the underlying reminders of his own mortality, he suspects, are not going anywhere. 

With a deep sigh, he pushes chakra through the soles of his feet and takes off after his suddenly energetic students.

\--

They end up making it back in half the time it would usually take, thanks to Naruto’s burst of energy. He beats Sakura and Kakashi back and is laying on a bench panting dramatically next to Iruka, who’s looking at him with a bemused smile on his face.

“It took you long enough!” Naruto is the first to spot them coming through the gates, Sakura first and Kakashi moments later. Iruka turns to greet them as well, raising his hand in a friendly wave and grinning. 

Kakashi is caught off guard by the warm, open expression for a moment – it’s been a long time since anyone smiled at him like that, he’s not sure how to respond. Then his logic catches up to him, and he realizes Iruka’s bright smile must be directed at Sakura. Still, it’s nice to be caught in the glow of it, if only for a moment. Nice to allow himself the harmless fantasy that someone would be excited to see him return to the village, too. 

“Welcome back!” Iruka calls, and Sakura shouts out a joyful greeting in return before turning to glare at Naruto. 

“Naruto, you idiot, don’t waste your chakra on running like that! I could practically feel it leaking out of you and I’ve only barely started that training. Honestly, just because you have so much doesn’t mean you can be reckless.” Naruto just pouts at her, familiar with this lecture, and looks pleadingly towards Iruka for help.

Iruka just laughs at him and ruffles his hair. “She’s right, you know, I could feel you coming from miles away.” Sakura beams at having her former teacher take her side, and he grins back in return. Naruto’s pout only deepens.

“Not fair, Iruka-sensei,” he whines, “of course you could feel me coming, being a sensor type is cheating.” Kakashi’s ears prick up, he hadn’t known that about the other man. 

“Only barely, Naruto, but with the way you burn through chakra you’re easier to find than most,” he chuckles. “Now, I’m pretty sure I didn’t meet you out here just to scold you. If I remember, I made you a promise about some ramen. You too, Sakura.”

Both genin perk up at that, bickering forgotten as the real reason Naruto had been in such a hurry is revealed. Iruka looks over their heads and smiles tentatively at Kakashi. “You’re welcome to join us as well, Kakashi-san.” 

Kakashi starts at that, and is midway through coming up with a convenient excuse to bail when Naruto makes a face and protests. “Don’t invite _him,_ Iruka-sensei! We had to spend a whole week with him already!” 

Iruka scowls at the boy. “Don’t be rude, Naruto. Kakashi-san, now I really have to insist that you join us so that Naruto has a chance to apologize for his bad manners.” 

Kakashi hesitates for a moment, but finds himself nodding his head in tentative agreement. And when he reasons that he’s only going to get on Naruto’s nerves, and not out of any desire to stay in Iruka’s orbit for a while longer, he almost believes himself.

\--

They sit in a line at Ichiraku’s, the kids between him and Iruka. For once there’s no attempt to see underneath his mask, they’re too excited to tell their beloved former teacher all about the mission and they hardly look Kakashi’s way. He still eats fast, out of habit, but even after finishing the meal something prevents him from leaving as he usually would.

Instead, he sits in the warmth of the ramen stand’s little tent, letting the chattering of his students and Iruka’s more measured replies wash over him. He’s not really paying attention to what they’re saying, but it’s nice to hear the rise and fall of their voices, Naruto and Sakura’s good-natured arguing and Iruka’s warm tone encouraging and scolding them in equal measure. 

His weariness starts to ebb away, and even if he’s not in a good mood by the time they finish their meal, he at least feels more relaxed. 

When Iruka goes to pay, he insists on paying for Kakashi’s meal as well – “it’s the least I can do to thank you for bringing these two home safe” – and gives him a quiet smile like they’re sharing an inside joke as Naruto and Sakura wave goodbye, still bickering as they head off into the night.

“Alright, Kakashi-san?” Iruka’s voice is soft as he fixes Kakashi with an assessing look. “You were quiet back there.” 

“Hn,” Kakashi hums noncommittally. With anyone else he would laugh off the question, and he should now, too – he and Iruka barely know each other. But he finds himself speaking, unbidden and honest. “Better now.” 

It’s only two words, but it’s more than he would have told anyone else. Still, he can’t seem to find it in himself to regret it. Iruka just smiles at him again, soft and private. 

“Please join us whenever you like, then. I try to meet up with Naruto after his missions when I can, to make sure he eats at least one vegetable a month,” he says, chuckling. Kakashi is hit with a sudden wave of _want_ before coming to his senses.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude,” he declines. Iruka just shakes his head, waving his hand as if to dispel the idea.

“It wouldn’t be an intrusion, we see each other plenty outside of these post-mission dinners. And besides, for all his griping Naruto really is terribly fond of you,” Iruka says conspiratorially. “But you didn’t hear it from me.”

Kakashi scratches the back of his head, suddenly awkward and glad for the mask hiding the blush he can feel rising on his face. He has the sense that Iruka has outmaneuvered him somehow, and is surprised to find himself nodding in agreement with the younger man. “Alright. If you insist, sensei.”

“I do insist,” Iruka beams at him, looking for all the world as if Kakashi has given him the best news he’s heard all year. Kakashi’s breath catches in his throat at having the full strength of the other man’s smile directed his way.

“Alright,” Kakashi repeats. “Alright.”

\--

\--

\--

Usually when Kakashi gets back from missions, he’s too tense to fall into a deep sleep; instead he naps in fits and starts and finds himself at the memorial stone at some ungodly hour of the morning. 

But this time sleep comes easily, and the sun is already well above the horizon when he wakes. He fills out their mission report in slightly neater handwriting than usual and is only half an hour late turning it in, and trusts that Iruka will understand it as a thank you, of sorts.

\--

\--

\--

They fall into a tentative routine, after that. Kakashi takes more solo missions than ones with the remnants of his team, but whenever he leads their misshapen three-man cell beyond Konoha’s walls, Iruka is waiting for them at the gates when they return, ready to lead the way to the ramen stand. 

But today it’s just Kakashi and Naruto who trudge, rather than sprint, through the gates, squelching noises announcing their presence with each footstep. Iruka takes one look at them before bending over double with laughter.

“You two are _filthy,”_ he wheezes, “what on earth _happened?”_

Kakashi starts to grumble something about the road of life being full of sinkholes, but Naruto cuts him off. “Kakashi-sensei wanted to take a shortcut.” 

“It was supposed to be a learning experience!” Kakashi protests, compelled to defend himself in the face of Naruto’s accusatory stare. “I thought it would be good practice for your chakra control to walk across the uneven ground of a swamp.”

Naruto lets out an indignant shout at that. “You didn’t say there would be _rats!”_

“In my defense,” Kakashi starts, looking nervously at Iruka, who luckily still seems to be cackling at the image their argument is forming, “I didn’t remember them being so big. Or so, you know… ”

“Bloodthirsty?” Naruto helpfully supplies.

Kakashi just shrugs. He can’t argue with that.

“Well, we can’t go to Ichiraku’s like this, you smell _horrible,”_ Iruka snickers, hand clapped firmly over his nose. “Teuchi would never let me in again.”

“What?!” Naruto exclaims, outraged. “But sensei,” he starts to whine, “I fought through Kakashi-sensei’s horrible rat swamp just for you.” The boy slumps over dramatically, leaning into Iruka, who shoves him off.

“Don’t get any of that stuff on me! Besides, I never said dinner was cancelled. We’ll just have to eat at my place instead. The two of you can shower while I make something.”

And so Kakashi finds himself in Iruka’s cramped but cozy apartment, a little dazed and wearing a borrowed sweater that’s just a little too short and trying to stand out of the way. From the corner he watches the ease with which Iruka and Naruto navigate the small space; it’s obvious they’ve spent many an evening preparing meals together. 

“Well, I think I got everything in the wash, Kakashi-san. It should be dry by the time we’ve eaten.” Iruka comes around the corner, wiping his hands on his pants.

“No need to apologize, sensei. Besides, I’m pretty sure you’re the one doing me a favor, hn?” Iruka just smiles at that. 

“It was no trouble, Kakashi-san.” They move into the kitchen to find Naruto has made tea, something spiced and warming. He presses mugs into their hands, each one proclaiming its owner ‘Konoha’s #1 Teacher.’

“You’re popular, sensei,” Kakashi hums, “do all of your mugs look like this?” He means it as a joke, but Iruka blushes and nervously rubs the bridge of his nose.

“Uh, well, that’s...” he trails off, sheepish, and Naruto butts in before he can form a sentence. 

“Yeah! And he deserves every one of ‘em, too,” he beams at Iruka, who flushes bright red and pulls Naruto into an awkward side-hug.

“Alright, alright, no need to embarrass your poor old sensei anymore. Why don’t you go set the table, hm?” He ruffles Naruto’s hair and watches him dash to the other room with a fond smile on his face. 

“You shouldn’t be embarrassed, you know,” Kakashi says, after a beat. “Passing on the Will of Fire is important work; the village is grateful that you do it so well. Naruto certainly is.” 

Iruka laughs nervously, a little uncomfortable. The smile on his face drops into something more serious, gaze still fixed on the empty space Naruto left behind.

“He’s leaving soon, isn’t he?” Iruka’s quiet, contemplative. He knows the answer already.

“Next week,” Kakashi replies softly. “Jiraiya can be… overwhelming, at first, but he’s a good teacher. And it will do him good to be away from the village for a while. There’s too much history, here. I think he’ll surprise us with what he can learn, without all that hanging over his head.” 

The _and he’ll be safe_ goes unspoken, but Kakashi thinks Iruka hears it all the same.

“I know,” Iruka says, sighing. “It’s funny – it’s not like we see each other every day, but it’s nice to know that we _could,_ you know? I wonder what I’ll do when he’s left us behind. If he’ll think of us, when he’s out there seeing the world.” He pauses, lets out a wry chuckle. “Does that make me sound like an old man?”

“No,” Kakashi hesitates for a moment, “just someone who cares for him a great deal.”

Iruka’s breath hitches at that; he rests a hand on the counter as if to steady himself. 

“Yeah,” he says, faintly. “Yeah, I guess so. Thanks, Kakashi.” 

They’re quiet, then, each lost in their own thoughts until Naruto bursts back into the kitchen.

“What’s taking you so long! I wanna eat,” he starts to gripe, before seeing both his teachers’ solemn eyes on him and sensing their shift in mood. “Geez, what happened to you two? Are you talking about boring grown-up stuff again? Am _I_ gonna have to talk about boring grown-up stuff? Because we can if you really want to but I wasn’t done telling you about the rats yet.”

Iruka is the first to regain his composure, cracking a smile at Naruto’s rambling. “It’s nothing, Naruto. Let’s go eat, yeah?”

\--

Kakashi leaves early in freshly-dried clothes, unsure if the warmth he’s feeling is from the heat of the dryer or something else entirely. He waves off Iruka’s invitation to stay a while longer, pulling on his sandals and opening the door to the chilly night air. 

Naruto waves sleepily from the doorway where he’s tucked up against Iruka’s side, looking disarmingly young as he yawns. Kakashi knows Iruka’s invitation wasn’t just made to be polite, that he could be genuinely welcome here, and he considers lingering for one more cup of tea. 

But then he remembers Iruka’s face in the kitchen as he thought about Naruto leaving and decides that the younger man needs this, needs to spend a quiet night with his sleepy thirteen-year-old charge safe and asleep on his spare futon. When Iruka gently tugs Naruto even tighter against him as he closes the door, Kakashi knows he’s made the right choice.

\--

\--

\--

Naruto leaves.

It’s not like it was a surprise – on the contrary, every movement was carefully choreographed. For Jiraiya to safely spirit him away, the two travelers need the biggest head start they can get. Kakashi doesn’t allow himself to go to the gate to see him off; very few people know he’s leaving in the first place and they can’t risk telegraphing his movements. 

(He does, however, sneak a well-worn copy of _The Tale of the Gutsy Ninja_ into Naruto’s pack, wonders if the boy will read it, and if he’ll think of Kakashi for even a moment.)

Naruto leaves, and Konoha feels just a bit colder, looks a little more grey. Kakashi goes back to taking solo missions, an endless stream of bleak A- and S-ranks that leave him tired and sore and wondering what the point of it all is. When he’s been sitting in a tree for nights on end, he lets his mind wander to kinder times, half-wishing he could go back to watching Team Seven fruitlessly chase cats through the streets. 

He visits the memorial stone every morning, turns in his mission reports mostly on time, spars with Gai or Tenzou when he has the chance. It’s a return to his routine – if anything, it should be a relief. Instead, his familiar habits just feel empty. 

Naruto’s absence puts an end to the post-mission dinners, too. Kakashi understands – it was mostly Naruto who prompted them, and he doesn’t really need anyone to buy him dinner when he gets home from a mission. But that doesn’t stop the selfish pang of regret Kakashi feels when he thinks about another small comfort fading away. 

He hardly sees Iruka outside the mission room. The chuunin is as diligent as ever, greeting Kakashi with a professional “thank you for your hard work” each time. But he looks worn, somehow – the shadows under his eyes have deepened, his smiles are less bright. When Kakashi catches him looking wistfully towards the Hokage’s office one afternoon, he remembers Iruka’s closeness with the Sandaime, realizes the other man has lost two of his precious people within weeks of one another. 

For all that Kakashi is familiar with that particular ache, he’s never been good with words. And besides, he tells himself, it’s not like they’re close. He wouldn’t want to presume. 

He doesn’t say anything.

Instead, he buries himself in the dreary monotony of missions, firmly ignoring the way he feels a little colder than the changing weather really justifies whenever he returns from a mission and sees only empty benches and unfamiliar faces at the gate.

\--

\--

\--

But then – 

Kakashi heaves a sigh as he sees Konoha’s familiar gates approaching at last. It had been a cold, dreary week of tracking a potential source through the Land of Snow, one who hadn’t even had useful information in the end. He’s looking forward to collapsing in his bed after a hot shower and maybe a warm drink, too, to chase the lingering chill from his bones.

He walks through the gates and stops, surprised. Sitting quietly on one of the benches, eyes closed, is Iruka. 

The familiar sight makes his heart clench, just a little, before logic catches up to him. Iruka has plenty of friends in the village, he could be waiting for any number of people. 

At the crunch of his footsteps in the gravel, Iruka opens his eyes. Sleepily, he turns his head towards the source of the noise, starting a bit when he recognizes Kakashi. He raises his hand in a hesitant greeting and smiles, a little sheepish.

“Welcome back,” he calls as he stands up. As Kakashi draws closer he sees that Iruka is blushing faintly. 

“I’m back,” Kakashi replies automatically. “It’s getting a little late to be out, hn? How rude of whoever is keeping you waiting.”

Iruka scratches his nose at that, a sure sign that he’s feeling unsure of himself. “Well then, it’s a good thing they’ve just arrived, isn’t it?”

Kakashi turns to look back at the gate – there’s no one there. 

He looks back at Iruka, visible eyebrow raised. Iruka just huffs, annoyed and maybe a little embarrassed. “Are you trying to mess with me, Kakashi-san?” 

The hope that Kakashi had done his best to tamp down bubbles back up immediately. “Ne, sensei, could it be that you were waiting for…” He trails off, unwilling to voice what he hopes is true.

“You, alright? I was waiting for you,” Iruka mumbles, not making eye contact. “I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable, I only thought – well, I thought it might be nice, is all. I’ve been so caught up in how much I miss him that I didn’t even think – well. Anyways. I’m going to stop talking now.” 

There’s something warm fluttering in Kakashi’s chest. He nods, a little hesitant. “Sure, sensei. That sounds – that would be nice.”

Iruka’s relief is palpable – his stiff posture relaxes and he laughs a little, scratching the back of his head. 

“Dinner, then? Or maybe not,” Iruka says, considering. “I could use a drink.”

\--

He had accepted Iruka’s invitation almost unthinkingly, but the closer they get to the bar the more nervous Kakashi gets. He had never been a particularly active part of the previous dinner conversations – most of that had been left to Naruto, who had been all too happy to be the center of attention. Without Konoha’s number one chatterbox ninja in attendance, he’s not sure what they’ll talk about. 

But it turns out Iruka is an excellent conversationalist when he’s not dutifully listening to one of Naruto’s dramatic mission reports. He shares the latest gossip from the mission room, and Kakashi tries and fails to stifle a snort as Iruka sketches out how, exactly, Kotetsu and Izumo managed to provoke Anko’s rage this week. 

None of Kakashi’s recent missions have been even remotely entertaining, so instead he shares one of the many plots Team Seven thought up to hunt down the infamous Tora – this one involving a fuma shuriken, several exploding tags, and a poorly-executed dog henge that had gotten them absolutely nowhere.

“Why they never asked me to summon a ninken I will never know,” he finishes, “although I can’t say I would have helped, anyways. Team-building exercises like that are important, you know.”

Iruka laughs out loud at that before admitting, “I think Team Seven probably got more of those than they were supposed to.”

Kakashi leans forward, intrigued. “Oh?”

“Well, as you know,” Iruka starts, the hint of a lecture creeping into his voice, “at the mission desk we have a certain amount of discretion when it comes to the lower level missions we hand out. And as much as I love Naruto, it’s not the easiest to grade papers when he’s hanging around your apartment – Tora usually tired him out enough that he went straight home.”

“Sounds like an abuse of power to me, sensei,” Kakashi raises his visible eyebrow, teasing. “I see you haven’t given up your trickster ways entirely.”

Iruka flushes. “Don’t go sharing my secret with the world, would you? I’m supposed to be a reformed troublemaker, here,” he laughs. 

This Iruka is worlds away from the tired, drawn man he’s been seeing at the mission desk. Laughter looks good on him, much better than the perpetually furrowed brow of the past few weeks. Kakashi is reminded of that first time at the gates, when he had first been drawn in by Iruka’s easy smile. 

It’s when he finds himself unable to tear his gaze from Iruka’s lips that Kakashi wonders if he’s had too much to drink. 

He’s pulled out of his contemplation when he realizes Iruka is looking at him expectantly. 

“Sorry, sensei, what was that? I have to admit that I’m fading a little.” He feels the heat rising on his face and experiences a sudden, intense wave of gratitude for his mask.

“Oh!” Iruka straightens. “I’m afraid I’ve kept you out pretty late, Kakashi-san – how rude of me, you must be tired after your mission.” 

Kakashi waves his hand in dismissal as they stand to leave. “Ne, don’t worry about it. It was quite a welcome surprise. Besides, if my official report is a few hours late tomorrow you won’t tell, will you?” 

Iruka just sputters at that, caught between being quietly pleased or just annoyed. Kakashi grins behind the mask. 

“Well, I’ll be seeing you, sensei,” Kakashi waves as he turns to go. “Until next time, hn?”

Iruka’s answering smile leaves him feeling lighter than he has in weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> took a few liberties with the timeline immediately pre-skip -- nar sticks around for maybe a month before leaving with jiraiya 
> 
> (the whole time i was writing this the figure skater au was lurking in another window trying to guilt me into working on it but i was absolutely possessed by this idea so that's what you're getting for now. sorry hehe i'll get back to it soon)


	2. two

Falling back into their pattern is easier than Kakashi had expected. Iruka is easy to talk to, and always has a good story or two on hand. Kakashi finds himself more up to date on Konoha gossip than he ever thought he wanted to be – the perks of knowing someone at the mission desk, Iruka tells him with a wink. It ends up being useful information, too, once Kakashi realizes that the best way to get Kotetsu off his case about paperwork is to threaten to tell Izumo about what happened the last time they went to the bar, or that Tsunade will probably be too tired to yell at him (as much) if he delivers bad news later in the afternoon. 

They’ve been on something of a tour of Konoha’s restaurants, a new one each time – “I do eat things other than ramen, Naruto’s just a bad influence,” Iruka says, mouth curling up at the edges when Kakashi raises an eyebrow. Tonight, though, Kakashi is still on edge from his mission, a tense two weeks of being on guard and ready to fight at a moment’s notice, and he’s wondering if they should maybe call it off.

Iruka’s listing restaurants beside him but Kakashi hasn’t heard a word, has been racking his brain for a polite way to say _sorry, Iruka, but I think I might actually hurt someone if we go to Ichiraku’s tonight_ when he realizes Iruka has stopped talking and is looking at him, eyes narrowed and gaze assessing. 

“Actually,” Iruka says slowly, “I don’t know if I’m in the mood for any of those places. How would you feel about cooking something instead?”

Kakashi doesn’t sag with relief, but it’s a near thing.

\--

He hasn’t been back to Iruka’s since Naruto left, but it’s the same as he remembered, warm and welcoming and just a little cramped. There’s a massive stack of papers piled haphazardly on the table, and books spread out across the floor in front of the sofa. Iruka flushes as he sees Kakashi eyeing the pile. 

“Ah, sorry,” he says, scratching the back of his head sheepishly, “I always make a bit of a mess when I’m grading.” 

Kakashi waves away the apology. “What are they working on?” 

“The history of the shinobi world. You should look at some of their papers on the founding of Konoha, they’re… well, I’ll let you see for yourself,” Iruka calls from the kitchen, already rummaging through his fridge. 

Kakashi picks up the essay on top of the pile, snorting at the copious amounts of red ink in the margins – Iruka must be a harsh grader. 

That assumption goes out the window as soon as Kakashi starts reading. After the first essay he wonders if maybe this is just an exceptionally difficult student, so he picks up the next one to check. And the next one. And the one after that.

Kakashi is halfway through the conclusion of a truly bizarre essay positing that the Shodaime was actually an alien whose otherworldly powers were the source for what is now known as chakra when Iruka pokes his head into the room.

“Dinner’s ready—” he breaks off as he sees Kakashi engrossed in the reading. “Are you still reading those? I wondered what you’d gotten up to.”

Kakashi hums absently, still reading. The tension from earlier has been gradually ebbing away, replaced with confusion and a deep, deep gratitude that he has never had to work with pre-genin. 

“They’re awfully… creative,” he hedges, not wanting to offend.

“They’re awful, is what you mean.” Iruka groans, dragging a hand over his face. “I don’t even want to guess at what they’ll write next week when we talk about the other hidden villages.”

Kakashi takes a moment to consider the many, many opportunities for confusion in the complex history of the ninja world before deciding that down that road leads only madness. 

“I think you might be a saint, Iruka,” Kakashi intones, voice suddenly grave. Iruka snorts at him. 

“You just remember that the next time I yell at you at the mission desk. Come on – we’re going to have to eat in the kitchen,” he says, nodding at the mess.

\--

Iruka looks pointedly away while they’re eating, and Kakashi can’t help the rush of fondness he feels towards the other man. Most people would have tried to sneak a glimpse of his face by now, but Iruka never has – not in any of the restaurants they’ve been to, and not even here, just the two of them. 

No, Iruka would apparently rather have a conversation with the wall than make Kakashi wolf down his dinner, and that small consideration is probably part of the reason Kakashi leaves his mask down when he’s finished.

“Thank you for the meal,” he says, anticipation curling in his stomach as he tries to guess how Iruka will react.

Iruka turns to face Kakashi and then starts, whipping his gaze back to the wall. “Ah, sorry, Kakashi, I didn’t—” he’s stuttering, flustered, and Kakashi can see the tips of his ears turning pink. “I didn’t realize you weren’t done.” 

“I am done,” Kakashi murmurs, amusement seeping into his tone. “It’s fine, Iruka, there’s no need for the mask when we’re not in public. Unless I’m just that hideous,” he trails off with exaggerated mourning. 

“No!” Iruka’s head snaps back to face him again. “Your face is, uh… it’s fine. I mean, it’s good. It’s…” he trails off, sounding faint, and Kakashi is satisfied to see a fierce blush rising on his cheeks. 

He smirks at Iruka’s awkward stumbling, realizing too late that with the mask down Iruka can absolutely see his expression when the man abruptly stops talking to glower at him.

“You did this on purpose, didn’t you,” he says. It’s not a question. “To rile me up. You—” 

Kakashi knows he’s about to get well and truly chewed out, but that little wave of fondness is still there. He grins even wider.

\--

\--

\--

They don’t _stop_ eating out after that, technically, but somehow they keep finding reasons to get takeout, or make something themselves. 

“Sorry, Kakashi, I’ve got to do my lesson plan tonight,” Iruka had said when he met Kakashi at the gate today, and so Kakashi finds himself making an eggplant miso soup as Iruka mutters darkly about horrible essays and thinks through his lesson plan out loud. Kakashi considers himself a helpful person, so he starts tossing out suggestions.

“You could get them started early on tree-walking,” he tries, which earns him an amused huff. 

“I have enough trouble keeping them in their seats when they’re confined to the ground, Kakashi, if they could stand on the ceiling I might actually lose my mind.”

Kakashi hadn’t thought of that; he shudders at the thought. “Well, okay. Maybe not,” he agrees, throwing out a few more outrageous ideas to camouflage his first unintentionally bad one. “Target practice with unbalanced shuriken? Infiltration field experience in Hokage Tower? A field trip to the Forest of Death with Anko?” 

Even from the kitchen he can practically hear Iruka roll his eyes. “Sure, Kakashi. You want to help out with those lessons?”

“No _thank_ you,” he replies emphatically before padding into the other room to look over Iruka’s shoulder. “What _are_ you planning, then?”

Iruka lets out an undignified squawk, dropping the scroll he had been studying intently. “Ack, Kakashi, don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“Sorry,” Kakashi says unapologetically, setting their dinner on the coffee table before flopping down onto the couch. “Wait, couldn’t you tell I was coming?” 

“I was _reading,_ Kakashi. I have to really focus to be able to sense you.”

Kakashi sits up at that, intrigued. “Really? How come?” 

“I’m not sure – it’s almost like you’re masking it without even thinking, it’s hard to find even when you’re close.” Iruka closes the notebook he’s been writing out the lesson in. “It’s good practice for me, though.”

Kakashi hums, mulling over this new information. He turns his focus inwards, towards his chakra – _he_ can feel it, maybe a little diminished after his mission but building back up to full strength already. Brow furrowing, he tries to find the block he’s apparently put in place. 

He barely hears Iruka ask what he’s doing, already absorbed in this new puzzle. Gradually, he relaxes his chakra control, consciously loosening his grip until something _clicks_ —

Next to him, Iruka gasps and drops his bowl, clutching at his temples. “Kami, Kakashi,” he hisses, wincing, “are you trying to give me a migraine? What did you _do?”_

This time Kakashi’s apology is genuine, and startled. 

“Are you alright? What happened?” he asks urgently, immediately clamping back down on his chakra.

“You tell me – whatever it was it felt like you set off a flare two feet from my face. Was that your _chakra?_ ” He raises his eyebrows at Kakashi’s tentative nod. “Well, maybe it’s good that you’ve got it under such tight control. At least give me a warning next time?” 

Feeling guilty at the pained expression on Iruka’s face, Kakashi nods his agreement. “No more flares.”

He will, however, try to sneak up on Iruka more often – training never stops, after all.

\--

\--

\--

Kakashi’s journey back from two weeks in the Land of Mist has been hurried, especially the last hour. He can feel a storm coming on, and he’s racing it to hopefully avoid making Iruka wait in the rain. 

He slows his pace as he gets to the village, not wanting to seem too eager in front of anyone else who may be at the benches today. But it doesn’t matter – there’s no one there. Iruka isn’t waiting for him, he realizes with a pang of disappointment as the first few drops of rain start to fall.

It was bound to happen eventually, he tells himself, trying to lessen the sting. Iruka has other friends; he could be with them. And he’s busy – it would be unfair to expect him to spend all his time waiting around for Kakashi. 

But – 

Iruka had been the one to give Kakashi this mission; had told him to be safe, had smiled and nodded at Kakashi’s now-standard “I’ll be seeing you.” Surely that had meant he was planning on meeting him, right? And Iruka would have told him if something had come up at the last minute, even if it was just a hastily scribbled note left on one of the benches. Thinking it over, Kakashi feels real concern starting to bubble up. 

There’s nothing for it, he decides; he’ll just have to find Iruka and check on the teacher himself. If he finds that the other man is fine and has just forgotten about him – well. It will sting, but better that than for something to be actually wrong.

\--

Kakashi feels the rush of memories as two of his shadow clones dispel themselves almost simultaneously. Iruka’s not at the Academy, nor has he been roped into an extra shift at the mission desk. He rarely takes missions outside of town and Kakashi hopes he’s not at the bars, which just leaves his apartment. But he hadn’t answered at Kakashi’s knock.

Alarm flaring up now, Kakashi jumps over to the window, carefully peering in to check the situation. 

Iruka is slumped over the table, surrounded by papers. He’s probably fine, probably just tired. 

But you can never be too careful, so Kakashi softly cracks open the window and lets himself in. Iruka’s traps aren’t set, he realizes when no kunai come hurtling towards his face – he had intended to get back up when he sat down to his grading. 

Kakashi inches closer until he can see the rise and fall of the other man’s shoulders, hears quiet, sleepy breathing. He’s being ridiculous, he realizes. Iruka is fine. Exhausted, maybe, but fine. 

But he’s here now, so he might as well stay and hope Iruka won’t be too mad at him for breaking in. 

The apartment’s gotten chilly with the weather, so Kakashi scoops up a blanket from the couch and drapes it over Iruka’s sleeping form before going into the kitchen to rummage through his unknowing host’s fridge in search of something he can put in a stir fry.

\--

“Kakashi..?” Iruka still looks half asleep when he shuffles into the kitchen, blanket still wrapped around his shoulders. His hair is down, Kakashi realizes, and combined with the massive yawn he tries and fails to stifle it makes Iruka look younger, softer somehow. “What’re you doing here?” 

Kakashi dodges the question. “Shouldn’t you be charging me with a kunai or something? I could have been waiting here to attack you, you know.” 

Iruka just shrugs sleepily, unconvinced. “An unknown assailant who left me a blanket and then started making dinner? Sure. ‘sides, could tell it was you,” he says through another yawn. “Getting easier to tell. Really, though, what’s up?”

Kakashi turns away so Iruka can’t see his face. “You weren’t at the gate.”

“Oh,” the realization seems to wake Iruka up somehow. “I’m sorry, I just – well, you saw. It’s no excuse for standing you up, though.”

Kakashi stiffens, unsure how to proceed. “No, it’s alright. It looked like you needed it. And it was raining, anyways.”

Iruka pauses. “Kakashi, were you... worried about me?” 

_Yes,_ Kakashi thinks as he turns to look at Iruka, really look at him. There’s a shadow behind his eyes and his normally open smile is faint, expression shuttered. He hasn’t met Kakashi’s eye once since he came into the kitchen. “Should I be?” Kakashi asks, serious.

Iruka laughs nervously at that. “No, Kakashi, I’m—” he cuts off abruptly, lets out a deep sigh. “I don’t know. Let’s just eat.”

Kakashi, master of avoiding conversations he doesn’t want to have, recognizes a deflection when he sees one. But it’s clear he’s not going to get anything out of Iruka that Iruka doesn’t want to talk about, so he picks up the dishes and follows Iruka back to the living room.

\--

They sit on the floor and eat from the coffee table, Iruka’s real table abandoned long ago to the ever-present pile of student work. 

Whatever is on Iruka’s mind, he doesn’t seem inclined to share. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes for what Kakashi thinks might be the thirtieth time since they’ve started eating, “I know I haven’t been the best company tonight.” 

“Hey,” Kakashi says, “it’s fine. I mean it. I’ll just go clean up, yeah? I’ll be out of your hair soon enough.”

“No—” Iruka breaks off, and Kakashi isn’t sure what he’s objecting to. “I’ll take care of it.”

He stands, slower than usual, and gingerly bends to take the dishes back to the kitchen. Kakashi frowns; an injury on top of whatever’s bothering him? 

Iruka returns from the kitchen before he can think too long about it. He winces as he sits and presses a hand to his back, and _oh,_ Kakashi realizes, kicking himself for being so slow. 

The incoming weather has been making his own scars twinge, and Obito’s eye had been more sore than usual this morning, but he had ignored it – he’s used to pushing away minor aches and pains during missions. But none of his scars compare to the magnitude of Iruka’s. 

He must be aching, Kakashi realizes, and yet he’s still trying to put on a good face for his uninvited company. 

“Take your shirt off,” he says, rummaging through his vest. He’s so distracted that he almost doesn’t register the surprised silence coming from in front of him. 

When he looks up, Iruka’s finally looking at him, eyes wide and cautious. Kakashi takes a moment to think about what he’s just said. 

“Er,” he starts eloquently. “The weather? And… your back must be sore?” At Iruka’s tentative nod, he keeps going. “Well, it’s just. Uh. I could help, maybe?” 

He awkwardly waves the hospital’s scar cream, finally found in one of his many pockets. Judging from the heat on his cheeks, the flush creeping up his face must be a deep, deep red.

Iruka takes pity on him. “Alright,” he says after a beat. “Sure.”

\--

It’s not until Iruka has his shirt off and has fallen face-first onto the sofa with a long sigh that Kakashi really starts to question the wisdom of this particular plan. 

But he’s offered his help, and he’s not going to retract the offer now, even if he does feel a little unsteady in a way he can’t quite identify. He sits on the edge of the couch, pressed against Iruka’s side as he works the cream into the mass of scar tissue across Iruka’s back. He’s never seen it before; it’s bigger than he would have expected. He thinks about asking Iruka why, but the quiet of the apartment seems comforting, and he doesn’t want to break the spell.

Iruka speaks, eventually. “One of my former students almost died this week,” he says, looking straight ahead. “The hospital said he’ll never be able to serve as a shinobi again.” 

There it is. “I’m sorry,” Kakashi starts, but he finds himself unsure of what to say after that and falls silent again.

“He was reckless. He shouldn’t have been on the mission in the first place but I think he snuck himself on to the roster. But he’s a good kid. All he wanted to do was protect Konoha but he made one dumb choice and now he’s—” Iruka cuts off, voice breaking, and buries his head in the crook of his elbow.

“It’s hard when you realize you can’t keep them safe forever,” Kakashi thinks aloud, pushing tiny bursts of chakra against the tissue to relax it. Iruka sighs, low and deep, but Kakashi can’t tell if it’s a sound of resignation or relief.

“I know you think I baby them too much,” Iruka murmurs, a little muffled. “That they need to grow up to be soldiers. But – even though sometimes when I look at them I’m amazed by how much they’ve grown, mostly I still just see the kids that I taught.”

Kakashi pauses, thinking. Iruka’s skin is warm under his hands. “I know I said that during the nominations, Iruka. But I also – I never had—” he struggles to find the words. “It’s good for them to be kids to someone, still. Good that they have that chance.”

“But so many of them _are_ kids, Kakashi, and I think about how we let them graduate even when they might still make _stupid_ decisions like that, and how we send them out there anyways, and – am I just sending them out to die? Am I doing enough?”

And there, finally, is the crux of the issue – this ugly thought that’s probably been gnawing at Iruka all week. Kakashi stops, waiting for Iruka to turn back to look at him.

“It wasn’t your fault. You know that, right?” Iruka just looks at him before closing his eyes.

“I guess. I know it’s inevitable that some of them will get hurt,” he says. “But when it’s like this? It was so unnecessary, Kakashi. _Pointless._ And maybe I couldn’t have done anything except maybe not graduate him, but I should have _seen—”_

“Hey,” Kakashi breaks in, massage all but abandoned as he leans forward to tug Iruka back to looking at him. “Stop. You couldn’t have known he would do that. And he may have been stupid and reckless, but it’s because of what you teach them that so many of your students are able to stay alive.” 

Iruka doesn’t say anything. 

“I mean it,” Kakashi continues. “There’s a reason your classes have some of the highest survival rates of the Academy. But that doesn’t make it any easier when things go wrong.” 

Iruka stays quiet, but Kakashi feels him slump under his hands, resistance going out of him all at once with a heavy sigh. He doesn’t speak up again, apparently done talking about the subject.

One conversation isn’t going absolve Iruka of his unfounded guilt, not when he’s been stewing over it like this, but his back, at least, Kakashi can help with. He channels chakra to his hands to warm them and starts the process again. 

They don’t talk, after that; instead, the ambient sounds of Konoha in the rain fill the apartment until Iruka falls asleep. 

The room is dark, the only source of light a streetlamp just outside the window. Finally, _finally_ the last of the tension slips away from around Iruka’s eyes. Kakashi covers him with the blanket again, rests his hand on Iruka’s head for just a moment, and leaves the way he came in.

\--

\--

\--

Kakashi finds himself out in the field again before he gets another chance to talk to Iruka. The mission goes by in a blur and he can’t keep the undercurrent of worry for the other man locked away completely; it’s a relief when he finally retrieves the scroll he’s been sent after and can head back towards Konoha.

His concerns prove mostly unfounded, though – Iruka is waiting for him at the gates again, this time holding a small scroll, excitement clearly written across his features. The shadows under his eyes are still there, but they’ve dimmed in the weeks Kakashi’s been away.

“Well, I’m back,” Kakashi calls, raising a hand in greeting. “What’ve you got there?”

“Tsunade-sama just gave it to me yesterday – it’s from Naruto.” The excitement suddenly makes more sense; Kakashi grins under his mask.

“Well, what did he say?” Kakashi asks, curious despite himself. Iruka’s enthusiasm is contagious.

“I don’t know,” Iruka admits, “I haven’t opened it yet. Come home and read it with me?”

“Sure,” Kakashi agrees, before Iruka’s words sink in and leave him suddenly reeling. Iruka hadn’t read the letter yet – had been saving it? To read with him? He feels off-balance, unsure of what that means. Still, when Iruka turns towards home, he follows.

\--

\--

\--

“You seem well, senpai,” Tenzou says, mid-spar. “With the types of missions you’ve been taking lately, I was expecting—” the sentence cuts off abruptly as Kakashi launches a fireball at him.

“Expecting what, Tenzou?” Kakashi calls out into the training field, unsure where the other man is hiding. A flurry of shuriken from his left is the only warning he gets before Tenzou bursts out of the bushes, forming the hand signs for one of his wood release techniques.

“You know – you had a hard time, back then. You seem different, is all. More grounded.” Kakashi just grunts in response, focused on evading the massive log that’s just been hurled his way. 

“I think Iruka’s good for you,” Tenzou calls as he charges towards Kakashi, “I’m glad you’ve found someone, senpai.”

Kakashi freezes, surprised, just in time for Tenzou to land a solid kick to his temple and send him into unconsciousness.

\--

He wakes up to see Tenzou hovering over him, nervous. Bringing his hand up to his head with a groan, he tentatively prods his temple and winces. 

“That was a dirty trick, Tenzou,” he grumbles, and the guilt on the other man’s face melts away.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, senpai,” he says, smirking. “I was just making an observation.”

“There’s nothing to observe. We’re friends, is all.” Tenzou just nods his head like he knows something. 

_“We’re_ friends, Kakashi. I don’t see you cooking me dinner, hm?”

Kakashi tries for a change in topic rather than answer. “Dinner, huh? Where are you taking me tonight, Tenzou?” 

“Where am _I_ taking _you?”_ Tenzou exclaims, feigning outrage. Kakashi grins at his successful derailing. He’s sure this conversation isn’t over, but Tenzou is apparently feeling merciful – or just guilty about knocking Kakashi out – and lets the issue drop. “Senpai, you’re not tricking me into paying for your dinner again. I’m pretty sure our agreement was that the loser would pay.”

“It’s not a trick, Tenzou – don’t you think you owe me? I could have a concussion, after you so brutally beat me. I could be brain damaged! That was supposed a friendly spar, you know.” 

Their argument lasts almost all the way back to town and it’s almost enough to distract Kakashi from the traitorous thought Tenzou has planted in his head. Almost.

\--

\--

\--

Kakashi wonders, after that. 

He starts to notice when the backs of their hands brush together as they walk, soft and delicate and almost unintentional. 

He thinks he sees Iruka’s polite smile soften, just a bit, when he sees Kakashi from across the mission room, and feels a tiny spark each time their fingers touch just a fraction too long when he hands in a scroll.

Sometimes, he looks into Iruka’s eyes and thinks he sees something like an invitation there, some quiet, soft longing. But he knows he can’t make the kinds of promises that go hand in hand with accepting, at least not the way Iruka wants. He hopes Iruka knows that too. 

Either way, he never acts on it. But sometimes, when he unlocks his drafty, empty apartment, he thinks of the cozy one he’s just left; when he slides under cool sheets in his too-big bed he wonders what it would be like to have a warm body tucked up against him, after all this time. 

He never acts on it. But he wonders.

\--

\--

\--

They’re eating dinner at Iruka’s again when the teacher brings up Kakashi’s most recent string of missions – all A- and S-rank, all solo. He had handed Iruka his most recent report just that afternoon, receiving a polite “thank you for your work” and a new scroll in one breath. Kakashi knows Iruka is aware of how punishing his schedule has been lately – Iruka is the one who’s handed him nearly every mission, and has seen him coming back looking, he’s sure, progressively more exhausted. 

“You’ll burn out,” Iruka says, concern evident in his furrowed brow and the downward pull of his mouth, and if he were anyone else Kakashi would lie to him, would tell him it’s no burden, he’s used to it. But he’s been finding himself unable to lie to Iruka lately, not convincingly. “These missions are too much for one person, I don’t know what Tsunade-sama was thinking. You could seriously get killed, Kakashi.” 

He just shrugs, avoiding eye contact, but he hears the sucked-in breath and knows he’s upset the other man.

“I mean it! The types of missions you’ve been taking lately should usually be carried out by a three-man team at least, and you need some time to recover in between!” He’s right, and Kakashi knows it, has been trying not to think about it. Every mission he comes home a little more drained, and there never seems to be enough time for him to get back to full strength before he’s being sent out again. 

“You know as well as I do that we don’t have the manpower for that right now, Iruka,” Kakashi says, trying to figure out how to change the topic. 

“Oh, so that makes it okay for Tsunade to run you into the ground?” Iruka looks truly upset now, although Kakashi can’t tell if it’s him or the situation the other man is railing against.

“It’s my job, isn’t it?” 

“Kakashi, you can’t be serious. I understand that you want to protect Konoha but there’s a difference between doing your job and being unnecessarily reckless! Honestly, have a little more regard for your own life. How can you keep anyone safe if you’re dead?” He’s just barely restraining himself from shouting, torn between anger and concern.

“Why are you so upset about this, Iruka?” Kakashi asks, startled by the other man’s anger. “It’s a job, and either way it doesn’t matter because I will be _fine.”_

“Why am I so upset?” Iruka hisses. “Is that really so hard to work out? Is it so hard for you to believe that there are people in this village who _care_ about you, Kakashi? People who—” he cuts off, abrupt.

“Yes,” Kakashi replies before he can think better of it, “all of my precious people have been dead for a long time. I’m just a resource, now.”

“Just a—” Iruka makes a strangled noise, face falling as all the anger seems to leave him in one shaky exhale. “Is that really what you think?”

Kakashi hesitates. Maybe a year ago he could have said it and believed himself. But the fact that he’s in Iruka’s apartment, feeling his own heart ache at the hurt and confusion playing out across the other man’s features— 

_Is that really what you think?_ Iruka’s question echoes through his mind, and the thing is – Kakashi _doesn’t know._

He realizes he’s been silent about five seconds too long, standing utterly frozen in Iruka’s kitchen. Iruka draws in a slow breath.

“You know what? Never mind. Do what you want.” Iruka just sounds tired, now. Kakashi wants to say something, to explain what he means, but when he goes to speak Iruka cuts him off. “Please leave, Kakashi-san. I need… I need you to go.” Kakashi flinches at the sudden formality, the way Iruka’s voice breaks even through his cold tone, but does as Iruka asks. He stands to go, but something prompts him to turn around. Iruka’s standing in the hallway, leaning against the wall as if he needs it to hold him up. 

“Iruka…” Kakashi moves to reach for him, catches himself, draws his hand back. He can’t look away from Iruka’s crumpling face.

“I asked you to go,” Iruka breathes, so quiet Kakashi hardly hears him. 

Kakashi goes. But he hesitates, just beyond the closed door. Hears Iruka slide to the floor, choke out a single frustrated sob. Pictures him pressing a fist to his mouth to silence himself. Swallows down the lump in his own throat.

Kakashi knows Iruka can still sense him there. Knows that it means Iruka doesn’t care if he hears. He aches to go back inside, but the mission scroll in his pocket is a solid, weighty reminder of his duty. 

He turns to go, and tries to will the sound of Iruka’s stifled sob out of his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kakashi. woof. learn to read the situation, my man.
> 
> thanks for all the comments and kudos so far, everyone! i'm really enjoying writing this so i'm glad you're enjoying reading it as well :) these two idiots hold a special place in my heart, they were one of my first ships way back when so it's very nostalgic to be writing them now~


	3. three

His intel had been badly wrong – infiltrating a missing-nin hideout to retrieve one of Konoha’s forbidden scrolls would have been difficult enough if there were only four remaining members of the organization there, as reported. 

But in the two days Kakashi has been staked out, he’s seen at least ten shinobi coming and going; he doesn’t doubt there are more of them underground. Kakashi allows himself a bitter twist of his lips; Iruka had been right after all, of course. He should have requested backup. 

He won’t be able to fight them all, that much he knows. The best he can hope for is to get in and out without being caught, then scatter them enough that he’ll have a chance to face them one or two at a time.

He lets himself fade away until all that remains is his objective. It’s almost soothing, to be reduced to such a mindless state. Kakashi knows he’s a little too close to the edge when he lets himself go like this, but it’s easy to fall back on all those years of losing himself to ANBU, into the thoughtless routine of _complete the mission, leave no trace, do what needs to be done._

\--

As he gets further from the base, Kakashi finally starts to come back into himself. He takes stock of his injuries – mostly superficial, although his ankle feels like it could be sprained and that persistent tension in his shoulders is starting to build up again. He’s low on chakra from using the sharingan more than is probably advisable, but that’s almost a given on his solo missions at that point. 

A tentative success, he thinks, trying to estimate how long it will be before his pursuers catch up to him. He had detonated a series of explosive tags on his way out; he hopes that took out at least a few of them. 

He’s just over the border and back into Fire when things go to shit, because of course they do. He’s distracted, thinking of how he’s going to face Iruka when he gets back into the village, or if it’s better to just avoid the other man. The hurt on Iruka’s face feels like it’s been branded in his mind; it’s hard to say if it would be better or worse to see him again. From their argument before the chuunin exams, Kakashi remembers all too well the icy silence Iruka is capable of when he’s upset, and he doesn’t know if he could take that abrupt shift in treatment – although he knows probably deserves it. 

But it wouldn’t do to just avoid him – Iruka deserves better than that. An apology, then, not for his intent but for the harsh words used to convey it. That’s what Kakashi has decided when he suddenly feels a powerful rush of killing intent from behind him; someone’s caught up while he was lost in thought. 

Rookie mistake, he thinks bitterly, as the missing-nin takes advantage of his surprise and launches a powerful earth jutsu at him. Caught at an awkward angle, he can’t dodge; he feels more than hears the sickening crunch of his ribs on impact, tastes the metallic tang of blood in his mouth.

Kakashi’s left flat on his back for a moment – he wants to gasp for breath after having the wind knocked out of him, but every inhale is accompanied by a sharp spike of pain. He hears footsteps behind him and does a rapid substitution jutsu to gain himself a few precious moments. Pushing up his hitai-ate and breathing through the pain as he stands, he launches to the trees to try to lose them.

\--

Miraculously, they don’t find him that night. They’re nearby, though; Pakkun comes back as Kakashi is wrapping his ribs to report that it’s not just one attacker on his tail – there’s a group of people, all of them with jounin-level chakra signatures. Three or four he may be able to handle, on a good day, but he doesn’t like his odds against more than that, especially with his chakra still depleted. In the dark every whisper of air sounds like a shuriken, every snapping branch a footstep. Kakashi doesn’t sleep. 

Instead, he finds himself thinking of Konoha, of Iruka. He wonders what the other man is doing. If he’s hunched over a gradebook with a mug of tea, muttering with exasperation at another terrible paper. Wonders if the other man is still upset with him. Wonders if he’s noticed that Kakashi is almost a full week late in getting back.

\--

It’s somewhere after his third chidori (one too many, he thinks absently, but it’s not like it _matters_ at this point) that he realizes that he might actually die, this time. 

He thinks their tracker is dead, but with how much he’s bleeding it probably doesn’t matter. If he could just find the river, it would break the trail, buy him some time as long as his leg wound doesn’t bleed out first – 

Finally he reaches it, and half-steps, half-falls into the icy water. It would make more sense to try to throw them off, go upstream, but he can’t muster the energy for it. Instead, Kakashi focuses all of his energy on staying conscious as the river carries him downstream, back towards Konoha. If he can just get close enough, if he can get within the patrol’s range, he’ll be safe, but he doesn’t know how far he is from the village or if he’ll be able to stay awake that long.

This need to return is new, he realizes, and he’s not sure what to make of it, not sure what’s changed other than he wants to make it back to Konoha, wants to see Iruka again and apologize, wants to – he doesn’t know _what,_ not exactly, but he _wants._

Chill of the water finally overwhelming him, Kakashi heaves himself out of the stream and rests weakly against a tree as he searches for a soldier pill – but it must have fallen out in the water, he realizes as he desperately digs through his pack. _Fuck,_ he thinks, _sorry, Iruka. You might not get that apology after all._

He had been so close, too.

\--

\--

\--

Kakashi can feel the familiar pull of unconsciousness, knows he’s on the verge of blacking out. His head is spinning – a concussion, probably – so at first he thinks he’s imagining the sounds of fighting overhead. 

But then there’s a voice at the edge of his hearing, and the tentative pressure of a hand on his shoulder. He can only hear a vague mumble over the blood rushing in his ears, can’t quite tell who it is, but the sound is familiar, if agitated. He opens his eyes.

Before him, unbelievably, is Iruka. It could be a hallucination, or an enemy jutsu, the part of his brain that’s still functioning registers faintly, but he can’t find it in himself to care. It’s Iruka, crouched above him and gently shaking his shoulders.

“Kakashi. Kakashi! Listen, you have to stay awake, help is coming but you have to keep your eyes open for me, ok?” His words drift in and out of Kakashi’s hearing in waves.

Kakashi tries to talk, remembers that he needed to tell him something, but all that comes out is a weak, wet cough. Iruka’s frown deepens.

“Hey, no, don’t talk. It’s okay. You’re safe.”

Kakashi ignores the scolding. “’m sorry, Iruka,” he finally forces out, whisper quiet. Iruka has to bend forward to hear him, and his hair brushes over Kakashi’s cheek. “For what I said, before. Was wrong.” The sentence is choppy, his breathing too shallow for more than a few words at a time. 

Iruka’s face falls. “You idiot,” he breathes, looking pained, “I’m not worried about that right now.”

“Still. Sorry. I know—” Kakashi tries to rasp out another sentence but another cough cuts him off. He sees a speck of blood land on Iruka’s face. “Know you’re there. Here. Fuck—” Kakashi knows there was something he was trying to say but he can’t do it, the words won’t come. His vision is starting to go dark around the edges again. 

“Kakashi, hey, stay with me, okay? _Please_ keep your eyes open,” Iruka sounds frantic now, desperate, and Kakashi wants to do as he asks but the pull of unconsciousness is too strong.

Vision fading, he reaches his hand to cup Iruka’s face, swipes a thumb over his cheek in silent apology. The last thing he sees before the world goes dark is the bloody track his thumb has left behind.

\--

\--

\--

He drifts in and out of consciousness, bits and pieces of the world coming to him in vague, disconnected fragments. The smell of chemicals. Murmuring voices, speaking low enough that he can’t make out their words. The quiet beeping of a monitor. A soft, hitching breath coming from somewhere at the edge of his awareness. The scratch of a cheap hospital mask over his face. Through it all, a warm, gentle pressure around his wrist.

\--

\--

\--

When Kakashi finally manages to open his eyes, he squeezes them shut again almost immediately, letting out a pained groan at the light flooding his vision. There’s the sound of movement to his right, and he makes another attempt at taking in his surroundings.

The stringent chemical scent of cleaning supplies enters his nose first, followed by the pleasantly numb feeling of his limbs. When he finally manages to blink his eyes open again to a familiar ceiling it’s only confirming what he already knows – he’s in the hospital.

The light is less painful this time, and he realizes absently that it’s because the fluorescents overhead have been turned off. Tsunade is looming over him, frowning. 

“Finally decided to join us, eh, brat?” He opens his mouth to respond (although he’s not sure what to say) but she holds up a hand to stop him. “No, don’t try to talk. Water first, at least.”

She deftly unhooks the thin paper hospital mask from around his ears, responding to his glare with one of her own. 

“Oh, don’t give me that look. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. Drink.” He feels obligated to glare for a second longer but still takes the offered straw. The cool water is soothing on his throat; he hadn’t realized how ragged it was.

His voice is still rough when he speaks. “What—” he breaks off into a cough.

“I thought I told you not to talk,” Tsunade scolds, a deep frown across her features. He’s surprised she’s not yelling at him, usually she’s much louder with her disapproval. “Shut up and drink your water.”

Ignoring her, he moves to tug the mask back in place, uncomfortable with his face being bare here, where anyone could walk in. But there’s a pressure around his wrist that stops him from moving. He looks down and freezes.

Iruka is slumped over the side of his bed, clearly asleep. He’s facing away from Kakashi, head pillowed on one hand and the other wrapped loosely around Kakashi’s wrist, fingers over his pulse, the pressure warm and gentle.

It’s only that point of contact that convinces him the man is real.

Tsunade huffs at him under her breath and it’s enough of a surprise that he’s able to tear his gaze from the man unconscious at his bedside.

“Finally noticed your visitor?” she asks, wry twist to her mouth. Her eyes are soft as she look at the sleeping form slumped across Kakashi’s bed. “He’s the only reason you’re here, kid, we never would have found you in time on our own. Came close to chakra exhaustion himself, trying to sense you so far out.”

Kakashi doesn’t say anything, but he feels his eyes widen at the revelation. Tsunade ignores him and keeps talking, fixing him with a fierce look. “He’s worn himself out, and that was after he spent the afternoon shouting me down about letting my jounin take unnecessary risks out of some backwards sense of duty.” 

Her mouth twists into a wry smile at that, but Kakashi just sits motionless, waiting for her to finish.

“He’s a good man, Kakashi,” she murmurs. 

He doesn’t respond. Tsunade lets out her breath in a huff, shaking her head and checking a chart at the end of his bed before moving to leave the room. 

Finally, Kakashi finds his voice. “I don’t—” he breaks off, frustrated. “I don’t understand.” 

Tsunade snorts. “Clearly.” She pauses at the door. “Whether you understand it – understand him – or not, he’s here. Don’t be so quick to walk away from something before it’s begun, just because you think you know how it’s going to end.” 

She eases the door shut behind her. Kakashi is frozen, can’t tear his gaze away from Iruka. It’s more than chakra exhaustion preventing him from moving.

With the lights off, he can tell it’s early. Sunlight is just beginning to shine over the tips of the trees, and the dawn casts a pale, pink hue over the now-silent hospital room. The only motion is the curtain billowing just so from the slightly open window, the steady rise and fall of Iruka’s shoulders with his breath. 

Iruka shifts in his sleep, turning so he’s facing Kakashi, and Kakashi’s world _tilts._

There’s still blood on Iruka’s face, an ugly red-brown trail dried across his cheek. He hasn’t _left._

Kakashi can’t remember the last time someone waited for him at the hospital. The last time someone slept through the night hunched over next to his bed, willingly sitting in one of those horrible chairs and risking a scolding from the nurses for staying past visiting hours, and he doesn’t understand.

He’s had friends visit him, of course, or stand guard through the night. But this is different. Almost like – almost like – 

He doesn’t understand, and then suddenly, all at once, he does. Understands what Tsunade meant, understands why Iruka had been so upset with him, why Iruka is _still here_ even though he’s clearly exhausted and probably still angry with Kakashi and by all rights should be at home, asleep in a real bed and not some flimsy plastic chair. 

Kakashi sucks in a breath. He’s half hoping Iruka will wake to the noise, half terrified of what to do if he does. 

But Iruka doesn’t wake – Tsunade had said he wouldn’t – and so Kakashi sits, utterly still, and watches as the pale morning light turns to the day and Iruka breathes in and out, asleep and unaware of how he has shaken Kakashi to the core.

\--

Kakashi doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he must have, because the next time he wakes up the afternoon sun is shining through his window and Iruka is awake, watching him come to with a faint smile on his face. He still looks tired, but there’s relief there, too. He starts to flush under the heat of Kakashi’s stare and pulls his fingers away from Kakashi’s wrist, as if embarrassed to have been caught worrying.

“Kakashi—you’re awake, that’s good, do you need anything, some water maybe, I should call Tsunade—” he’s babbling, nervous, and Kakashi tunes him out, more focused on getting his limbs to cooperate. 

He licks his thumb and reaches out to cup Iruka’s cheek, swiping his thumb over the dried blood in an effort to wipe it away. Iruka trails off, unsure.

“Kakashi..?” He ignores the question, pulling Iruka towards him until their foreheads are pressed together. He tangles his free hand with Iruka’s where it had been resting on the bed and goes still for one long moment before drawing a deep breath.

“I’m sorry.” Kakashi speaks, voice still scratchy with disuse, and it’s as if a string has been cut – all of Iruka’s nervous tension goes out of him at once as he sighs, dropping his forehead to rest on Kakashi’s shoulder. Kakashi doesn’t move his hand, curled gently around the back of Iruka’s neck.

“I was so angry with you. And then – you didn’t come back, and Kakashi, I was _so worried_ and then I was just angry that I was still worried about you—” he breaks off, wrapping Kakashi into a hug. 

“I know. I’m sorry,” Kakashi murmurs, tentatively bringing his arms up. “I’m sorry.”

Iruka sighs, low and exhausted. “You scared me.” 

Kakashi doesn’t know how to respond to that, except with honesty. “I was… scared, too. That I wouldn’t make it back. To you. That was what I was thinking about, when I thought I was going to… well.” 

He trails off when Iruka’s shoulders start to shake, gives up on words and just holds him, pressing Iruka’s ear to where he’ll be able to hear Kakashi’s heartbeat. 

Iruka is the first to break the quiet. “I’m still angry with you,” he mumbles into Kakashi’s shoulder. “Just so you know.”

Kakashi just hums, earning himself a half-hearted whack on the arm. “I mean it,” Iruka says, but he’s smiling as he pulls away.

\--

The next time Kakashi wakes, Iruka is gone and Sakura has taken his place. 

“He wasn’t going to leave,” she whispers conspiratorially, “but I think Tsunade-sama threatened him with an extra round of parent teacher conferences if he didn’t go home to shower at least.”

Kakashi winces in understanding, getting a laugh out of Sakura as she picks up his charts.

“Tsunade-sama asked me to work on your ribs a little, is that alright? She said they’re good practice.” Kakashi cringes internally at the idea of being a practice subject, although given Tsunade’s glare earlier supposes he had it coming. But he trusts Sakura, and tells her as much.

She smiles faintly, pleased, before turning her focus to her work.

They’ve been sitting quietly, chakra pushing through her palms into the scrapes and swelling along his ribcage, when she finally speaks.

“Don’t hurt him, Kakashi-sensei.” It’s all she says, quiet and shy, as if she had been debating saying it at all. It stings for a moment, that his student would think so poorly of him, but then he supposes she knows better than most how hurtful he can be, intentional or not. 

Slowly, not wanting to startle her while her chakra is so near his internal organs, he puts a hand over hers, waits until she makes eye contact. “You know I can’t promise that, Sakura,” she draws in a breath, corners of her mouth turning down, “but – I’ll try. That much I can promise, at least.”

She holds his gaze for a moment longer. Whatever answer she’s intent on seeking out in his visible eye, she must find it, because she nods once, satisfied, before turning back to her task. 

Kakashi closes his eyes, feeling chastised and surprisingly relieved by her approval. Of all his former students, Sakura isn’t the one he would have expected to have this conversation with, and he smiles fondly beneath the mask at her protectiveness. By the time he finishes his ruminations, Sakura is done, gently feeling around his ribcage for any remaining swelling. 

“How does that feel?” she asks tentatively, chewing on her lip. 

“Good as new,” he says, ruffling her hair like she’s a genin again. “Nice work, Sakura.” 

She grins at him, happy for the attention, and he scolds himself for allowing her to become so distant even when she’s so close. His last thought before he falls asleep is that Iruka probably won’t mind if he invites her to dinner, too.

\--

\--

\--

Tsunade has always been able to sense when he’s getting restless.

He’s been in the hospital for nearly a week and is feeling well enough to contemplate an escape when she finally stops into his room. 

Iruka is there too, grading papers at the end of Kakashi’s bed. He’s been reading the worst parts out loud in an attempt to keep Kakashi entertained, and they’re both snickering when Tsunade walks in. 

“I know you’re thinking of running off, brat. Don’t bother,” she says, fixing Kakashi with a glare. “You can leave.”

Kakashi doesn’t quite cheer, but whatever reaction he does have is enough for Tsunade to cut him off, disapproving. 

“I wasn’t done. You can leave, _if_ you can find someone to check in on you and make sure you’re not doing anything too strenuous. Your chakra levels are still too low for any serious training, you hear me?” 

Kakashi’s nodding, only half listening to the list of terms and conditions she’s laying out, when Iruka speaks up.

“I can do it, Tsunade-sama,” he says, quietly. “It’s no trouble.”

She lets out a huff of laughter at that and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like “that’s one bet won” before nodding her approval.

There are papers to sign, medications to pick up, and stretching exercises to go through before he can leave, and each new delay feels endless until, finally Iruka is there before him, saying, “come on, Kakashi. Let’s go home.”

Kakashi turns the word over in his mind as they walk, turning towards Iruka’s apartment in unspoken agreement. _Home._ It feels right, somehow.

\--

“You know, that would have been easier if we had just used a tiny little ninjutsu,” Kakashi complains half-heartedly, catching his breath from the stairs as he follows Iruka inside.

“No.” Iruka’s back is to Kakashi, but his voice is pitched lower than usual, deep and solemn. When he turns to meet Kakashi’s gaze, his eyes are dark and full of want. Kakashi hears his breath hitch despite himself. “I promised I would take care of you, remember? And I’ll be taking that promise _very_ seriously.”

Before Kakashi can respond, Iruka has him pressed up against the wall. Kakashi can feel the other man’s lips move against his neck through the thin fabric of his mask when he speaks again, and he shivers at the closeness of it.

“Tell me if you don’t want this,” Iruka starts, and in lieu of a response Kakashi tugs his mask down and closes the distance between them.

Iruka moves achingly slowly, at first, pressing soft, gentle kisses against Kakashi’s lips and then in a trail down his jaw. He’s twisted one hand into Kakashi’s hair and is working his way down his neck when he hits a particularly sensitive spot and Kakashi can’t help the soft sigh that comes from his mouth, unbidden. 

Iruka seems to take that as a sign, somehow, because his hesitancy falls away almost immediately; he nips at the same spot, hard, and Kakashi rolls his hips forward almost unthinkingly before tugging Iruka back up for a deeper kiss. 

There’s mischief in Iruka’s eyes when they pull away, both breathing hard, and Kakashi gets the sense that the other man knows exactly what he’s doing when he surges forward again, insistent, arching up against Kakashi and groaning into his mouth. The vibrations of it race through Kakashi, electric, and he puts his hands on Iruka’s hips to pull him even closer. 

He’s still in the spare clothes Iruka had brought to the hospital and neither of them are wearing their vests; this close he can feel Iruka’s heart racing along with his own, feels the hard press of him against his leg. There’s a heat curling deep in his belly, and he gasps as Iruka works his thigh between Kakashi’s legs, pressing ever closer and tangling his fingers in Kakashi’s hair with another groan. 

Finally, Kakashi moves, pushing off the wall and steering Iruka backwards towards the couch. Somehow Iruka outmaneuvers him, twisting until he’s the one pressing Kakashi down into the cushions and climbing on top of him. 

At Kakashi’s protest he laughs – “Nothing strenuous, remember? Some of us actually follow the rules” – and leans in for another kiss, and somewhere in between breathy sighs and the searing heat of Iruka’s hands on his skin Kakashi forgets what his complaint was in the first place.

\--

(“We have to buy a new couch before Naruto gets back,” Iruka mutters at breakfast the next day, and Kakashi snorts into his tea and marvels at the ease with which Iruka has moved from the singular to the plural.)

\--

\--

\--

When Naruto finally does get back to Konoha they’re both, miraculously, in the village. Iruka comes racing to the training field where Kakashi and Sakura are sparring, out of breath, and says with wide eyes, “Naruto. He’s – he’s coming back, I could feel him, he’s so close, _hurry,_ we have to—” then Kakashi cuts off his frantic, disjointed rambling by pulling him into a hug, hard, ignoring that he’s been training for hours and is covered in sweat and probably smells awful and that Sakura is standing right next to them, eyes wide. 

All three of them are off to the gate, then, and when Naruto comes through to see them on the benches, waiting for him, his smile is brighter than anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they'll always get there, in the end. thanks for reading, everyone :)


End file.
